


A Sunday Kind of Love

by DivinelyUninspiredToAHellishExtent



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Adorable Harry, Anyways I don't know how to tag this, Awkward Louis, Blind!Harry, College Harry, College Louis, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Harry's just precious, Late Night Conversations, Louis takes care of him, M/M, Okay that's it :), Slow Build, Smut will come I think, have i mentioned fluff, hehe come get it, i think, i'll shut up, supportive Louis, ummmm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:34:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24087442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DivinelyUninspiredToAHellishExtent/pseuds/DivinelyUninspiredToAHellishExtent
Summary: However, there was something off. He stared ahead as if he was looking at something specific in front of him that was distracting, but still trying to figure out which key to put in. A few times, Louis caught his head jerk down, but then he just shook it and looked back up again like it was useless. Louis almost wanted to lean over the railing even further to see what he was looking at that was so distracting and why he couldn’t just look at what he was doing.And then he saw a red and white cane by his feet.Oh shit.Louis felt like an idiot.He was blind.(Or, one where an adorable, helpless, blind Harry moves in below Louis in his apartment building in NYC. Feelings will ensue, along with problems, of course.)
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Kudos: 32





	A Sunday Kind of Love

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Welcome to this lovely fanfic. I hope you make it to the end. 
> 
> DISCLAIMER: THIS CHARACTERS ARE COMPLETELY FICTIONAL. I am not claiming that anything that happens here is real or ever happened. It's just a story. 
> 
> Happy reading :)

It was a calm, Sunday afternoon. New York City was finally going to rest, cars jamming the streets with the traffic of driving home. Thankfully, Louis had gotten off his shift at the cafe a bit earlier, so he didn’t need to worry about being stuck in the streets. 

Instead, he could just make himself a nice cup of tea and go out on his balcony to admire the sunset, which always came so early in New England because of winter. 

The view of towering skyscrapers never failed to take his breath away. He was only on the second floor, so he could look quite a long way up. 

It was a cloudless day, which always made everything a little bit better. No, he wouldn’t worry about the damn paper that was due in biology or his rent that he still had to figure out a way of earning. He could just relax. 

He tiptoed to his small balcony in just a pair of clean sweatpants, blowing on his steaming herbal tea. He set it down on a coaster on the glass table outside and carefully settled himself down on the rocking chair facing the rest of the city with a sigh. He shifted the cushion under his bum until he got comfortable, throwing back his hair with the wind. It was particularly strong that day, so he reached behind him and tugged the wool blanket that was resting on the back of the chair over his naked chest. Much better. 

The horizon sparkled with the oncoming evening sun. The blare of a car horn came every now and then, but otherwise Louis felt like he was living on a cloud. 

He closed his eyes and soaked in the sun—it didn’t last much in November. 

Suddenly, there was a sharp bang and a swear from right below him. It was almost inaudible, but it just floated to Louis's ears. 

He frowned, but kept his eyes closed, trying to focus on _no more work for the rest of the day, no more work for the rest of the day…_ heaven.

But he couldn’t stop his curiosity, and before he knew it, his ears were perking up for more sounds. 

Sure enough, a few seconds later, another small _thump_ came. It was less aggressive this time, but it still made Louis get up and lean over the balcony just to see what was happening. 

At first, in the blinding sun and busy sidewalk, his eyes didn’t catch on anything. But then he saw a black car with the trunk open, and his eyes followed the path to a man. 

He was carrying a big box in his hands and wearing dark sunglasses, fumbling with his keys. From his bird’s eye view, he saw a mop of brown curls that swept to his shoulders, and a black tee with black jeans. 

However, there was something off. He stared ahead as if he was looking at something specific in front of him that was distracting, but still trying to figure out which key to put in. A few times, Louis caught his head jerk down, but then he just shook it and looked back up again like it was useless. Louis almost wanted to lean over the railing even further to see what he was looking at that was so distracting and why he couldn’t just look at what he was doing. 

And then he saw a red and white cane by his feet. 

Oh _shit._

Louis felt like an idiot. 

He was _blind._

The man dropped his keys all of a sudden, and Louis couldn’t quite hear it, but he saw his shoulders give out a huge sigh. He slowly lowered himself to the ground and started groping. 

Louis was appalled that no one had stopped on the street to try and help him yet. 

_Oh my god,_ I _should help him._

“Hey!” he called out awkwardly. The man paused, brushing his hair back and rising again. He didn’t bother looking for the source of the noise. Obviously. 

When he didn’t reply, Louis called out again, leaning over more. “Hey, you!”

He cocked his head. 

“Are you talking to me?” he said out loud, a little quietly. Thank God Louis had good hearing. 

“Yes! Yes, you. I—”

“Where are you?”

“Um.” Louis itched his head. “Above you. I was just—”

“What? Why?”

Louis sighed. “I was just having a cup of tea out on the balcony and saw that you were kind of struggling a bit and just thought…I mean I dunno, do you maybe want some help?”

For a second, he swore the man looked offended, but then his face gave in. “Yeah, actually, that would be nice.” He talked to the ground. 

“Okay! Okay, uhm, stay right there I’ll be down in a second.”

“Alright.”

At that, Louis raced back into his apartment, almost sliding on the hardwood floors. He nearly left the house shirtless, catching a glance of himself in the mirror last minute. He swung into his bedroom and grabbed a sweatshirt off the floor, still pulling it over his head as he flew out the door. 

He didn’t bother with the elevator, just skipped down the steps two at a time. A few seconds later, he was standing right in front of him. 

He pushed the door open, crowding a little close to the man. He expected him to back away, but then—

Idiot. He couldn’t see. 

Louis awkwardly took a step back. The man cocked his head again. 

He cleared his throat. “Hi,” he said, causing him to jump. “Sorry. I’m Louis.”

His facial expression didn’t change. His eyebrows were pulled down almost like he was angry. “Harry.” He extended a hand smoothly, but a little off to the side. Nonetheless, Louis took it and shook. 

“So, um—here, let me get that for you.” He hesitantly went to take the box out of Harry’s hands, but Harry held on firmly. “Um.”

A little smile played at his lips. “How do I know you’re not going to rob me? Just take the box and run?”

Louis scoffed nervously. “I don’t know. I guess you can just trust me?” He held his breath. Harry pretended to think about it for a second, then shrugged and let go of the box. Not expecting it, Louis nearly doubled over and had to grab the door handle to support him because of it’s weight. 

“Jesus, what’s in here, fossils?”

Harry smirked, going to pick up his cane. “Books.”

Louis rose his eyebrows. “Oh. Well, but—nevermind.”

“No, go ahead. You can ask.”

Louis winced. “How can you read?”

“Most of them are in braille.” He cleared his throat, then added, “Plus, I use a few for decoration. I can’t have a bookshelf without any books.”

Louis couldn’t believe he was so dense. “Right, yes, of course, um, I’m sorry, let me just—” he propped the door open with his elbow and pushed it back enough for Harry to get through, leaving a little extra room just in case. Harry smiled again and stepped forward carefully, feeling out his surroundings. At one point, his hand collided with Louis’s chest and they both giggled. 

“Sorry.”

“No problem. Um, do you want to maybe…I don’t know, your trunk is wide open and New York isn’t exactly a safe city, so…?”

“No, it’s fine. My driver’ll watch it.”

Louis followed him into the open space, the door swinging shut behind him and leaving them with one last blast of cool air. “Oh. Can I ask why he isn’t helping you himself?”

“I wanted to try it myself.” Regrettably, his voice sounded a little small, and Louis felt like ten times the idiot he had been just a few seconds ago. 

“Wow. Oh my god. I’m sorry. I didn’t—”

“No, no, don’t worry. I clearly couldn’t do it, so.” His face fell a little, and Louis wished he didn’t have a mouth. 

He went to apologize again, but then Harry spoke, a little more lightly. “So, I’m apartment 104. Could you lead me to the way?”

“Of course, of course,” Louis mumbled, starting up the stairs. He stopped halfway, realizing Harry couldn’t see him. Duh. “Um, here just—is it okay if I set this box down for a second?”

“Sure.”

Louis put it on the carpeted step, then leaned down and gingerly touched Harry’s arm. Harry jerked, then relaxed, moving his head up in Louis’s general direction. 

The first thing Louis noticed was how _hard_ it was. He had to hold himself back from saying something stupid like _well someone works out._

“Is this okay?” he asked, a little strangled. It was utterly quiet where they were, and for once Louis wished his snotty neighbors were around. The tension grew tenfold when Harry nodded, taking a deep breath. 

“Okay. So I’m just going to like, lead you up, okay? Your place is on the first floor. This is like the lobby area.”

“Okay.”

Harry took a slow step towards the stairs, then reached hand out and felt for the railing. Once he got a good grip and tested out the first two steps, he reached Louis’s height in no time. Except not really. Because he was taller. 

They stood close together in the cramped space, and despite just being out in the cold, Louis felt a stinging sweat break. 

“Wow,” he said. “That was fast.”

“I’m a quick learner.”

Louis chuckled. “Of course.”

“You can take my box now.” With humiliating surprise, Louis realized he was still holding on to Harry’s arm. Quite a tight grip, too.

“Oh. Right. God. Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. Just tell me where to go.”

So, with careful ascend and Louis’s poor directions, they reached Harry’s flat. Louis was fully sweating by the time they stood in front of the door, the weight of the box taking a toll on his muscles. He dropped it a little aggressively, taking a deep breath and letting it out in a whoosh of air.

He didn’t notice Harry smirking at him until he talked. “Was that too hard for you?”

Louis blinked, then smiled as well. “No way. No idea what you’re talking about.” 

Harry broke out in small huffs of laughter that was oddly adorable, especially for his size and manner. From a look, Harry seemed like an intimidating, wise, business man. Even being blind, he seemed graceful. But when his face broke out in a smile, it was quite honestly the exact opposite of that, and Louis felt himself already more drawn in then he probably should’ve been for just helping out a stranger. 

Well. Not a stranger anymore. 

“Alright, so.” Louis clapped his hands together. “Do you need anymore help with the boxes?”

“No, I’m good,” Harry said, but leaned against the wall with his arms crossed like they had more to talk about. He set his cane against the wall next to him. Louis gulped. 

“Um, okay. Good. So. I’m actually in the place right above, 204, so just. Holler if you need anything, I guess.” He laughed weakly.

“Sure.”

“Okay. Well. Nice meeting you, neighbor.”

“You too. See you around. Well, not—literally.”

They both shared one last laugh.

Louis turned back one more time to sneak a glance at the top of the stairs, and saw Harry in the same position, staring forward at where Louis just stood. His brows were furrowed again, almost in concentration. Louis stuttered to a stop, letting himself look a little longer. Finally, Harry pushed himself off the wall and started back down the stairs to collect the rest of his boxes, his head swinging low and cane swinging lower. 

Well. That was an interesting experience. 

.

Fierce blood red tinted the sky as Louis went out on his balcony on Wednesday night, body feeling like it was being weighed down from the exhaustion of the day. A sunset. That was nice. There wasn’t enough of those around anymore.

He stirred a homemade cocktail with his pinky, already dreaming of Saturday. He’d gotten out of unbearable classes at three just to be run to his shift at Starbucks at three fifteen, because even with his parents “paying for everything”, he still wanted a little dignity. He didn’t want to be known as the obnoxious brat with rich parents. 

But he may have been starting to regret choosing a day shift.

All he caught from his city view now when he came home was glimpses of the fading sky, usually dark and forlorn already.

But today, God had decided to gift him for his rough day. Rays of bright orange sun hit high buildings and danced in sparkles across the glass. There wasn’t much to see from the skyscrapers, but even the tiny bits peeking through the cracks was good enough for him. 

He sat on the edge of his outdoor couch, scooching sideways so he could prop his legs up with a sigh. He closed his eyes and willed himself not to think about work or college. 

He scanned through his thoughts, wondering… 

Harry came up. That boy from the other day.

He remembered his face clearly. It bothered him still how stupidly pretty he’d looked. Maybe it was just that certain day, but he thought someone who couldn’t see themselves in a mirror didn’t have the right to look that good. 

Was that mean? That felt mean.

Well, he couldn’t exactly punish the man for great genes, could he? A perfectly chiseled jawline that could be seen from a mile away, floppy curls that didn’t even look like they had any product in them, nice lips…

Eyes. Had he even seen his eyes?

No, right. They’d been behind sunglasses. Huh. 

He made a mental note that he wanted to see his eyes, maybe one day.

Oh, what was his lonely ass on about? Jesus, he was such a pervert. Imagining up some stranger who’d probably already forgotten his name, better yet that he exists. He didn’t need to get caught up in that. _Christ,_ he was probably straight. 

Louis tried shifting his thoughts again, but Harry’s damn face wouldn’t stay out. His smile, too.

 _Dimples._ Those dimples. Never in his life had he seen anyone who had genuine, real dimples like that. Not just little folds on the cheeks that Louis could make himself if he really tried, but real, like, _holes_ right by his mouth. It was fascinating. 

His eyes shot open.

He wanted to see them more.

He closed his eyes again, shaking his head. He needed a distraction. A different one. This was getting bad. 

An hour later, he was sifting through Nike shoes online on his laptop propped on his folded legs half up in the air. The sun was nearly completely gone, just small rays of light reaching out from the skyline and brushing upward. The city was beginning to start it’s own, artificial lights, buildings already gleaming and flashes of headlights from cars coming up from below.

And Louis—Louis couldn’t stop thinking about Harry. He didn’t know why, really, what exactly about him drew him in again and again, but it was unstoppable. He’d tried everything. He’d called his mum, played a dumb online game, and now the online shopping. But Harry was just…there. For some reason. He wished he’d never remembered him.

He closed his laptop and screwed his eyes shut, rubbing them with his knuckles. He forced himself to rise and get inside, because it was starting to get seriously cold and a t-shirt wasn’t helpful. 

He put his empty glass in the sink and turned off the light in the kitchen, stubbing his toe on a chair on the way out. He swore, slightly limping as he made his way blindly into his bedroom and felt for the light. Once he got himself situated, he stripped down to his boxers with a shiver, placed his laptop on his desk and flopped into bed, not bothering to go into his usual nightly routine. He opened his phone and dabbled through social media a bit, checking Twitter and Instagram. He was quite dry, so it was no surprise when there were no notifications. 

He wondered randomly if he would find Harry on here. 

_No, no. You are not going to do that. You will_ not _search him up—_

Oops. Too late. 

The thing was, he wasn’t stupid. There was no way he was going to find his Harry by just looking up that name on Instagram or something. He needed to find a last name. 

_But how?_

He bit his lip, finger hovering with hesitation over the keyboard. 

Oh, whatever. It’s not like Harry was ever going to see his history on his phone anytime soon. He was being dramatic.   
With a small wince of internal embarrassment and tiny regret, he typed in _Harry blind._

The first link was a Wikipedia source about some ancient person in history. The next one was a poem. The third one was about a Scottish writer, and the fourth was a conspiracy theory about Prince Harry. 

But the fifth one was a news website. The headline read; _24 Year-Old Harry Styles From Chicago Goes Blind In Car Accident; Doctors Called It “A Rare Case.”_

No way. 

The date was from… _from a month ago._

He blinked at his screen, pausing in shock. 

He clicked the link, waiting impatiently for his crappy phone to load. A photo instantly came up of a man in a pale blue, hospital dressing gown with thick bandages attached over his head that covered his eyes. His mouth was slightly open, and he was laid back like he was in pain. 

But the face. Even behind the bandages, the face was familiar…

Had he really just found his Harry?

_Not your Harry, stupid. Shut up._

The picture was instantly flanked by all types of commercials, and the headline popped up right above it a second later. Louis almost didn’t want to read.

A twinge of guilt came up when he thought about Harry. He probably wouldn’t want him reading this. Hell, who would? Louis was a crazy stalker, and he really needed to stop. 

Okay. He’d gotten his name. That was all he needed to know. He didn’t need to invade that guy’s privacy anymore. Enough. 

He cleared the tab along with his throat, trying not to feel pity for him. He thought back to the things Harry had said…

_I wanted to try it myself._

Jesus. And only a month ago? _Jesus._

Never mind, never mind. He needed to focus on the task at hand. Social media. 

He looked up Harry Styles on Instagram first, feeling a little bit of reluctance but pushing on anyway. He’d gotten this far. 

A few of the pages were sex accounts, some didn’t even have any content, but finally, he found the one with the original username. 

_Harrystyles._

The profile photo was of a man bent over a guitar in a light room, hair flopped over his face in a sexy way. He was wearing sunglasses.

Almost giddy, Louis clicked on the account. 

He was surprised with a long feed. Most men on this app didn’t usually…well, post a lot. They kept it simple because they thought that made them look cooler, but Harry had over twenty posts, and they weren’t even from that long ago. 

Louis was a little impressed. 

It was mostly aesthetic photographs with captions that made no sense (one was a black and white photo of a banana on a table and the caption read: _Never make eye contact with someone while eating a banana._ ) Nonetheless, though, Louis was interested more than he should’ve been. Again. 

He clicked on a photo that actually showed Harry’s face. It was him in what looked like a garden, surrounded by looming plants and green wildlife. He was wearing plaid blue trousers and a loose white tank top with a jean jacket. The entire look made Louis’s eyes bulge a little, though he denied it in his head. He was leaning over a sunflower, picking at the petal in wonder. The caption was simply a sunflower emoji. 

The picture was captured magically, getting Louis to wonder who took it. It definitely didn’t look like anywhere that could be in New York City, so he assumed it was back in Chicago (where the headline said the accident happened). Sunlight filtered through grand leaves like shots of heaven, hitting Harry at the best angles. He looked like a legitimate angel. 

By the end of his scrolling, Louis had a safe assumption that Harry couldn’t be entirely straight. He didn’t know for sure, but he’d never seen a straight man in his life have such a…tasteful Instagram feed. Yes, it wasn’t a lot to base it on, but. He didn’t care. This was _his_ fantasy.

When he checked the time, he almost gasped. It was eleven o’clock, he had class tomorrow, and he was stalking his neighbor. Great. 

He shut off his phone and plugged it in on his bedside table, getting up to shuffle towards his light and turn it off. Once settled comfortably in bed, the last thought he had before he was out cold was that he hadn’t seen a single picture from the past month.

.

When Louis woke up, he was disgusted by his actions the previous night. He made a promise to himself that today was going to be Harry-free, he would _not_ stalk him, he would _not_ think about him. And everything would be fine. 

He succeeded this during breakfast, which was a cold English muffin with some rose tea. He put on shaggy jeans and a white sweater over a light t-shirt. He considered trying to make himself look a little extra good today, maybe brush out his hair or something, but then he decided it was pointless. No one to impress. 

He picked up his book bag and placed all his materials for the necessary day inside, counting them down in his head as he put them in. He hit his head on the door frame as he was walking out, still not used to the apartment.

When he got down to the first floor, he had a sense of elation and exhilaration, like he’d left behind something toxic and now he could live his life properly. He supposed that was sort of true. 

But the minute he reached the last step, he collided with a large, heavy body and stumbled back on his ass, slipping on the stupid, carpeted step.

“Fuck. Ow.”

His books had slid straight out of his bag and onto the ground. He winced and got up again, rubbing his behind. He straightened his sweater and tried clearing the dizziness from his head, finally looking up to see who or what caused it. 

Ah, of course. 

It was Harry. Harry Styles. 

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry, I didn’t—it’s just, I can’t see, um, still getting used to this, Jesus—” Harry said, fumbling around with his hands and trying to reach out to help whoever was in front of him. He was still wearing the same sunglasses, but they were slightly crooked on his nose. Louis thought he could get a glance at his eyes, but the shadows covered everything. Damn.

Today, he was wearing a striped red button down that was hardly buttoned up at all, revealing dark hints of tattoos underneath and a gold cross necklace that was oddly erotic. Over all this, he had a dark brown trenchcoat that reached his knees and beige trousers that flared over his booted feet. 

Hmm. 

“Oh no, don’t—it’s okay. It’s me. Louis. Um, from the other day, haha,” Louis said, trying not to sound nervous. He found himself not knowing where to look—was it okay if he didn’t attempt to make eye contact? Or was that still weird? He was seriously unprepared for this. 

“Oh. Louis. Hi. Nice to see—well, hear from you again. Funny that this was how it had to be.”

Louis forced out a small, choked laugh. “Yeah.” He scratched his head, wondering whether the promise of a Harry-free today would still happen. 

_Probably not,_ a small voice in his mind snorted. He ignored it, planning to get out of the situation as fast as possible. He couldn’t stop thinking of Harry’s face in the bandages from the news article, his pretty Instagram that lacked any recent posts. 

“Sorry, um,” Harry said as he tripped over Louis’s books. “Are these yours? Do you want help picking them up?”

“Oh—um, you don’t need to, it’s—it’s okay, really, I—” Harry ignored his protests, kneeling down to feel around and collect them. Louis puffed out a breath of jittery air, shrugging in defeat and kneeling down quickly to help. Louis led Harry’s arms carefully towards his bag, leading his hands inside. Harry complied easily, like there was already trust there. Louis—Louis didn’t want to think about it. 

“Well, thanks. Um.”

“No problem.”

“So I’ll—I’ll see you around I guess. I mean—fuck, not see, you—shit, I’m sorry, I’m such a dickwad, I need—”

“No, it’s okay, don’t worry.” He popped a gentle smile, and a dimple appeared on his left cheek. A perfect indent. Louis felt momentarily weak in the knees, and suddenly became swept with a sadness knowing that Harry would never be able to see his own beauty ever again. 

“How did you become blind?” Louis blurted, then smacked his forehead. “Sorry, you don’t have to an—”

“It was an accident.” His dimple disappeared, but a small little half smile stayed that made Louis think that he wasn’t such an idiot for opening his mouth. Harry sighed and leaned against the wood railing of the stairs, tipping his head back a little. “Around a month ago, I got in a bad car accident. They, uh, said it was rare for people like me to become how I—I became. But of course, um, it happened. And they couldn’t save me. Lucky me.”

Louis was speechless for a second. He knew what happened secretly, of course, from his online stalker rampage the other night, but hearing Harry actually confirm it in detail sent chills up his spine. He swallowed, guiltily grateful that Harry couldn’t see his surely red cheeks. 

“Oh. Oh man. I’m—that sucks. A lot. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. But it’s okay now, I’m fine. It’s okay,” he said, clearing his throat. 

“Good.” Louis hoped Harry would hear the smile in his voice. Just in case, he added, “By the way, I’m smiling, if you couldn’t tell.”

Harry broke out in cute giggles, and Louis was pleased to see the dimples come back. He wished he could take a photo and look at them whenever he wanted, but alas, that would be rude. He technically could, but…

Of course. Five minutes with the man, and he was already plotting another creepy way of invading his privacy. 

This was why he needed a Harry-free day. 

“Well, um, I’m gonna be late to class now, wow, look at that,” Louis chuckled, looking at the time on his phone. “Have a good day, I guess.”

Harry smiled. “You too.” He waved his hand with the mail in it sweetly, then started making his way back upstairs. Louis watched after him for a second, making sure he didn’t fall, and then rushed outside. He shook his head as he pushed through the cold, the ice wind slicing against his cheek like a knife. Cars blazed by and puffed foul smoke into the air, polluting it right around where he walked. He coughed and squinted, walking a little faster. 

One more time, he shook his head, just for good measure, as if it would shake Harry out. 

.

Louis knew it was going to be a bad day in his very first class, where he tripped on the ledge at the door and spilled his fresh coffee all over the blue carpeted rug of the room. He’d tried to get napkins and start cleaning up, but the class had already begun, and he was rushed to his seat. An hour in, a cleaning crew had to come and take care of it, giving him a nasty look. He wished he could shrink into his seat. 

Then, on his way to Biology, a blast of wind struck his hair and stayed there to make sure to permanently fuck it up for the day. Ah, perfect.

At work, there were only a few customers, and they were nasty. Really, really nasty.

By the time he got home, he was dragging his feet. He realized, with a small jolt of happiness, that he hadn’t really thought about Harry all day. Most of the reason why was because there just wasn’t time or space in his brain, but he still counted that as a victory. 

However, when he got to his apartment, he already felt himself aching to see Harry again, hoping that he was there, waiting or something. Of course, he wasn’t, and Louis was left disappointed even though he shouldn’t have been. He trudged up the stairs, nearly dragging his book bag beside him. He wished he could get Harry’s number, talk to him more. He wished he could have _someone_ to talk to at the time anyway. 

Overwhelming loneliness crushed him like a big brick, weighing him down even more. If he could’ve, he would’ve collapsed to the ground on the second floor right there and just fallen asleep against the wall. But he made it by, scrunching his nose from the weird smell that always laid in the air around the area.

When he finally reached his flat, all he could do was throw his books somewhere to his right and belly dive onto his sofa, his feet hanging off the edge. He snuggled a patterned pillow, ignoring the rough texture and just soaking up the _rest._

However, just when he started to drift, his doorbell rang. 

He groaned, swinging his legs off the couch and stumbling towards the noise. “Couldn’t have let me have a little peace, could ya?” he said, to no one in particular. Well, maybe the Universe. 

He cracked the door open a pinch, rubbing his eyes at the sudden light. At first, all he saw was a fedora, but then it lifted to reveal Harry Styles’ sweet face. Which looked a little confused. 

When he didn’t say anything in pure shock, Harry’s face contorted in confusion and almost guilt even more. 

“Sorry, is this, um, is this Louis?” He tentatively reached out and let his fingers glide over the door as if he’d be able to feel who it was. He dropped his hand, cheeks reddening hilariously fast. 

“Yes, it’s me,” Louis rasped, then cleared his throat. “Sorry, um, would you like to come in?”

Harry beamed. “Yes, thank you.” Louis whipped open the door and jumped out of the way, kicking away his shoes from the entrance of the doorway. Harry poked his cane in a second later, taking small steps inside. He was frowning when his face became visible. 

“Sorry, is there anything—I mean, could you tell me where I’m going?”

“Right, yes, sorry.” Louis surged forward and put a hand on Harry’s wrist and forearm. “Here just, you can walk forward a little and then there’s going to be a couch. Where you can sit.”

Harry smiled a little and nodded. He was still wearing sunglasses, Louis noticed. Once they walked forward a bit, Louis led Harry to sit right down on the couch. Harry put his cane down beside him, propping it up on the cushions.

“Perfect. Um, you can stay right there, I’ll fix a cup of tea, um…” He stopped in his tracks, trying to remember why he was doing this. “Wait, uh, why are you here?”

Harry sighed and wrung his hands in his lap. He blew out a small, exaggerated exhale, and Louis’s stress spiked.

“Uh, well,” he cleared his throat. “I was just sort of having a rough night, and I sort of—I mean, I thought it would just be nice to have a friend, for a little bit. I don’t have many around here yet, and you obviously live in the same building, so. Plus, you said I could holler if I needed anything.” He laughed dryly.

Louis blinked. “Well, uh, of course! No problem! Today’s been a bit exhausting for me too, so what’d ya say we swap stories?”

“I’d love that.” The small change in note in his voice was enough to sprout butterflies in his stomach. He filled up the teapot with water for the two of them, setting it on the stove and putting the temp on high. He neatly put their mugs next to each other, ready with the tea bags, and then went back to the living room. Harry hadn’t moved much—he was just picking at his fingernails and staring at the ground. 

“Hi,” Louis said, warning him of his presence. Harry perked up. Louis joined him on the couch, sitting on the opposite end. 

“Hi,” Harry said back awkwardly after a moment.

“So.” Louis clapped his hands together. “What’s so shitty about your night?”

“Oh. Well, it was fine, really, until my mother called me. She usually never does. And of course, we got into an argument.” Harry’s tone suggested that he was not up for talking about it, and Louis wasn’t going to push him. “And when we get into arguments, it’s the absolute worst. It’s just bitchy stubbornness because obviously we share DNA so everything one person says the other one shoots back with something worse, and…by the end I was just mentally exhausted. And in need of a friend.” He gave a small smile in the general direction of Louis. Louis smiled back, then scooted forward so he could touch his arm lightly.

There was still a light feeling of unknown between them—they _had_ only met once before, but there was also an enthusiastic eagerness behind it too. An eagerness to get to know each other, to eliminate the awkwardness. It was like talking to a therapist for the first time. Telling a stranger your problems at first felt wrong, but one would push through and push through until it got easier. Because that was when it got better. 

“I’m so sorry.”

“No, really, it’s fine. I’m the one who basically intruded into your home to complain about my life.” He shrugged. Louis was about to protest, but Harry continued sadly. “I feel like all I do is complain around you. All you ever say to me is ‘that sucks’ or ‘I’m sorry’. God, I’m the worst,” he said with a chuckle, but it didn’t feel like a joke. 

“No, no Harry, don’t say that. How could you say that? Of course you’re not the worst. It’s not—most of the things you’re talking about is stuff that _I_ asked about. Don’t worry, you’re not bothering me in the slightest.” Just to comfort him a little extra, he scooted closer to close the distance between them and put an hand on his slouched back, rubbing up and down softly.

Harry scoffed. “Anyway, what happened with you? What’s your shitty day?” His face leaned up to Louis's trying to make it seem like he was paying attention. Louis would assume that was hard, not being able to see and all.

“Well, God just apparently decided he did not want me to succeed today. I mean, from the beginning, it was like bad luck after bad luck. I spilled my cold brew all over the _carpeted floors_ of Mr. Trez’s biology room on my way in. Then I had a messy hair day. Well, still do. Kinda thankful you can’t see right now, to be honest.” 

Harry choked on a little laugh. 

“And everything just felt like shit. Some days are just super long and annoying like that, you know?”

Harry nodded. “Oh, I know.”

“Yeah.”  
  
Louis cleared his throat, trying to get rid of the silence. However, a few seconds later, the water started boiling and the teapot went off screeching. 

“Ah, that’ll be the tea,” Louis said under his breath, hurrying out of the room. He shuddered as he poured the steaming water into their mugs; he really needed to pull it together. Harry was in his home. He was pouring tea for another human. 

Oh boy. He hadn't had close human interaction for far too long. 

“Okay, here we go. Some nice rose tea for you,” Louis announced as he walked into the room, setting down the cups carefully on the coffee table. “Um, here I’ll…” He reached down and took Harry’s hand, slowly leading it to the cup. “It’s a little hot still, so just be careful.”

Harry smiled. “Thanks.” He brought it up to his lips, and Louis shamelessly stared with the knowledge that he wouldn’t be caught. 

“Of course. Do you like it?” 

Harry swallowed and put it back down. “Yes. It’s lovely.”

“Great.”

Harry nodded, taking a deep breath. 

“So, Harry, what do you do? Er—or, what’re you studying, perhaps?”

Harry’s face brightened immediately. “I’m studying to be a teacher; history major. I know it’s a stretch because of my whole situation, but I thought it’d be nice to show people—kids especially—that we can accomplish shit too. I mean, I've wanted to be a teacher for a while now, but what happened to me just motivated me more.”

Louis laughed sweetly. “Wow. That’s actually so cool. And hey—history! That’s interesting. I genuinely didn’t think people actually enjoyed that anymore. Or at all.” He winced the second it left his mouth, expecting Harry to be offended, but he was rewarded with a laugh a second later. 

“Yeah. I dunno, I guess I’m just interested in the past.”

Louis found himself gushing a little bit because seriously—someone so attractive _and_ they had brains? When did Louis’s life turn into a fantasy? “Wow. I didn’t even know there were people like you in the world anymore. Where did you come from, Harry Styles?”

Harry grinned, but it quickly morphed into a deeply confused frown. “Wait, how do you know my last name?”

Louis gasped, his face flushing deeply. Shit. Shit shit shit. He fucked up big. “Oh. Oh my God. I’m so sorry, um.” Was there even anyway he could come up with an excuse for this? 

_No,_ his thoughts told him. _Don’t even try._

“God, I can’t even come up with some pathetic excuse for this. So, um, I swear I’m not some weirdo stalker—though, you are absolutely free to think that, you barely know me—but after the other day, I was kind of intrigued with you. And curious.” Jesus, he was going to have a heart attack. He should be given an award for the dumbest human on the planet right now. “So I may have done some research. I swear I didn’t go deep-diving down your social medias or find your social security number or anything, but I just. I don’t know. I’m sorry.” God, why did he say that? It made him sound worse. And the social media thing was a half-lie.

Harry was quiet for maybe a full minute, or at least that’s how it seemed. Louis was sweating, wishing he could run out of the room. He didn’t know where he’d go, but just. Somewhere. Anywhere but here. 

Then, finally, Harry’s mouth opened. “Oh wow. I’m flattered, actually.”

Louis blinked, then basically melted in relief. It was like a dream, hearing those words out of Harry's mouth. “Oh thank God. I’m so sorry. I didn’t—I just—I was just curious.” He almost let it slip that he wasn’t expecting Harry to find out, but then he actually thought about the words before they left his mouth. A mistake that was just made a few minutes ago. 

Harry smiled, his dimple popping. Louis, alarmingly, found himself wanting to poke it. “Don’t worry about it. I’d say I would be doing the same with you if it wasn’t for my sight.”

And woah. 

Louis wasn’t expecting that. What was he supposed to do with that?

He smiled. “Thanks. But, um, don’t you have like digital voices that can help you with that or something? Like a Siri?” As an afterthought, he added, “Not that I’m encouraging you to do it or anything. No. It’s—I mean—”

Harry waved a hand, dismissing him. It was gentle, but Louis still wanted to die in a hole. Christ, Harry had literally _came_ to his house and he couldn’t stop making a fool of himself. The first pretty boy to come up in his life, who was also sweet and smart. And now he’d already found out that Louis had stalked him. 

“Nah, it’s okay. I do, actually, but um, still trying to figure out how to use them honestly. Like, I know, but it’s still sort of difficult. It’s only been a month, you know. Well, I’m sure you do.”

Oh _Jesus._

Louis actually buried his face in his hands. “God, Harry I’m so sorry—”

“No, no don’t—Louis it was a joke,” Harry laughed. He put a tentative hand on Louis’s shoulder. 

“Oh. Sorry. I’m an idiot.”

“Don’t _worry,_ seriously. I’m not angry or anything. You can relax.” He pet his shoulder a bit until Louis physically loosened. “But um, anyway, yeah. I don’t usually use voice command that much. It’s more complicated then it seems.” 

“Right,” Louis said, taking a sip of his tea. He was still beyond embarrassed, but things were starting to feel better. 

Harry nodded, his face plain. Louis sniffed. 

“Wanna listen to some music, or something?”

“Sure.”

“Okay, cool. I’ll pop a few records in.”

Harry got up as soon as Louis did, face lightened up. “You have a record player?” He sounded like a child awaiting a surprise. 

Louis grinned. “Yes, I do actually.”

“ _Sick._ Any good vinyls?” 

“Um, yeah tons of ‘em. Come with me.” Louis hesitated, but then reached out for Harry’s hand without thinking about it too much. Harry complied, thankfully. 

He led him around the coffee table with careful steps and towards the bookshelf filled with all sorts of old records. He sifted through them, murmuring a little to himself. He could feel Harry close to him, breathing on his neck lightly. He reached a hand forward, hovering it over the his own. 

“May I?” 

Louis gulped, moving his hand. “Um, yeah, go ahead.”

Harry dragged his fingers across the different vinyl covers, tapping on a few of them. He looked mesmerized, even though he couldn’t see them. He was already fascinating Louis with all his strange little traits that Louis honestly didn’t expect a blind person to have. He was already learning a lot from Harry, he supposed. 

_Blind people are capable of having emotions, you idiot._

“Wow, there’s so many,” Harry said. He leaned away. “You pick one.”

“Sure.” Louis squatted and went to the very left on the last row, looking for the album by Wings. He tugged it out of the neatly compact stack of vinyls, slipping the record out of its case with wary fingers and placing it atop the ring of his vinyl player. He clicked the On button on the side, sliding the volume to the correct notch and then put the needle against the disk as it started to spin. Guitar flowed smoothly from the speakers, filling the room in a warm melody. 

He looked up to read Harry’s expression, wondering if he would recognize the song, and he was not disappointed. His face lit up, and he pointed at the sound of the music in awe. 

“Deliver Your Children! Wings! Oh my God, they were one of my favorite bands as a kid!”

Louis chuckled, “Really?”

“Yes! My dad had a few of their records. Love them.”

“That’s so cool.” Suddenly, an idea struck Louis that made him smile and grab Harry’s hand. “Care for a dance?”

Harry, the taller, buffer, prettier man, became flustered. He laughed, but joined him as Louis slowly dragged them to the middle of his living room. 

He didn’t pull him to him in a slow dance (like he was kind of tempted to) but instead proceeded to spin him around. Harry guffawed, stumbling and flailing a little, but eventually he got into it. The big smile wouldn’t wipe off his face as they continued holding hands and prancing around Louis’s living room like teenagers to Wings’ fantastic album, London Town. 

At one point, _Louis_ actually tripped a little, and that continued in a domino effect of the two of them falling over each other onto the couch. Louis managed to lead them there last minute, softening their fall. 

Harry was laughing almost hysterically, which Louis took pride it. He didn’t seem like the type to go off in laughing fits, but he was being proven wrong the more time he spent with him. He was lying like a flightless bird on Louis’s chest, still clutching his hand and borderline snorting. The music continued, and they laughed through it, tangled in each other and tangled in the fantasy. The fantasy of this life. 

Or at least, that’s how Louis was feeling. His laughs faded faster then Harry’s. 

When they both calmed down, Harry pulled himself up and sat in criss cross on the ground, leaving Louis by himself on the couch. They sat like that until that side of the vinyl ran out of play, just soaking in the songs in each other’s presence. Their tea lay untouched on the table. In a normal case, Louis would find himself rather offended that the tea he found for someone was left in a full cup, but if he was offended from that, he would have to be hypocritical. His was just as full.

He stood up and took the record off the player, putting it back in it’s case. Returning back to the room, Louis checked his phone. Damn. It was getting late. 

“Louis? What’s happening?” Harry said from the floor, playing with a piece of string on the carpet. Louis wished he could take a photo. He looked like a baby. 

“Um, I think it’s time for you to go, Harry,” Louis said. “It’s just—I have another long day tomorrow and it’s getting kind of late, so.”

Harry jumped to his feet. “Yes, of course. Of course.”

“But I hope this, um, experience made you feel better.”

Harry grinned. “Could you tell me where your face is right now, if you don’t mind? I want to see you when I say this.”

Louis’s insides jumped. “Um, sure I’ll—” He put his hands on Harry’s shoulders and turned him towards himself, making it so he and Harry were at eye level. Well. He was at Harry’s chest level. 

It didn’t even feel weird to touch Harry anymore. It felt sort of like a practiced act. He could get used to it.

“I haven’t had that much fun in months, Louis. Thank you so much. It was…I also haven’t laughed like that in forever. You’re…something else.” He said it with a huge, dimpled smile. His eyes weren’t even that off from Louis’.

Louis couldn’t help but return his enthusiasm. “Of course. You’re—you’re just as special.” He said it with a big gulp of air, praying he would keep some sanity and go through no more humiliation. “It _was_ really fun, wasn’t it? Maybe we should do this more often,” Louis teased. And he phrased it as teasing really because it was simple—it’s not like they were dating.

But Harry responded a bit differently. “I’d love to,” he said, dead serious. The smile on Louis’s face dropped just from the pure shock. 

“Really?” he choked out. “After—after everything?”

Harry laughed, shaking his head. “I told you I had fun. What makes you think I won’t want to come again?”

Louis scratched the back of his neck, wishing he didn’t have to say it aloud. “Well, the fact that I embarrassed the hell out of myself.”

Harry lifted a hand and put it on the closest body part of Louis’ that he could find; his hip. From there, he slowly inched his hand up, past Louis’s ribs and along the soft inside of his arm. Louis shivered, standing stock still. Eventually it reached it’s apparent destination; the junction between his shoulder and neck. 

“Louis, you have nothing to be embarrassed about. Seriously. If I had thought you were lame or weird, I would’ve left by now. And I’m still here, aren’t I?”

“Okay,” Louis said through syrupy words, still in shock that this was happening to him. He blinked back into reality, trying to keep himself out of the daydream of Harry’s face. It was easy to get lost in. “So, we can see each other again?”

“Of course. Soon as we can. Um. Do you want my number, or…?”

Jesus Christ. This was not how he saw his night going. 

“Yes, yeah, sure. I’ll put mine in, actually.”

Harry took his phone out quickly and thrust it forward. Louis typed in his number with shaky fingers, trying not to overthink. Overthinking was how he made a fool of himself. He didn’t need it to happen again. 

“Here.” He handed it back. Harry smiled again, looking at him straight in the face. For the first time, Louis noticed that his sunglasses were still on, and he got a sudden urge to see the beauties beneath them. It had been long enough, right? He was just curious. 

“Wait, Harry,” Louis said as Harry went to feel around for his cane. “Well, first of all, here.” Louis handed him his cane, which was wedged almost completely under the coffee table. Harry thanked him. “And second, I—this is gonna be kind of a weird question, but um, do you think you could take off your sunglasses? I want to see what your eyes look like.”

And then, a dark shadow passed over Harry’s face. His facial expression was basically flipped upside down, a deep frowning settling on his features. He looked down, fiddling with his phone and cane uncomfortably. _Ouch. Wrong question._

“I’m sorry. You don’t have to if you don’t want.”

Harry shook his head. “I’m— _I’m_ sorry. It’s just a really private part for me, you know? It’s—I mean, you don’t even know. It’s a lot.” He motioned to his face. 

“Your face is already a lot. A lot of beauty.” 

Harry cackled. 

“Okay, alright, cheesy joke, but I meant it. For real.”

“Okay,” Harry said, slightly better now. “If I show you, you have to promise not to make fun or—or suddenly decide you don’t want to see me anymore or something.”

“Of course not!” Louis exclaimed, putting a hand over his heart in betrayal. “How could you think that?”

“Oh, you’ll see,” Harry muttered. Then, after a deep breath, he reached up and shucked down his dark glasses almost in slow motion. 

There were two straight scars across each lid, small enough that they didn’t reach beyond the sunglasses but prominent enough that they had his eyes swollen shut and slightly pink. It was a bit of shock, yes, but what shocked him even more was how he still wasn’t less beautiful in any way. 

“Oh wow.” He felt himself tempted to touch his cheek, feel it’s hotness against his fingertips and trace around the scar. It was startling how much effort it took to stop himself from doing that. 

But Harry’s face crumpled slightly, and he hurriedly slipped his sunglasses right back on. “Sorry, I’m sorry, I know.”

“No, it’s—Harry, you’re beautiful.” It came out of him before he could stop it, and he barely even regretted it. “You’re still very, very beautiful,” he added in a whisper. The silence in the room intensified. 

“Oh. Oh,” Harry said, and then a slow smile spread on his face. “Thank you.”

“Of course.”

More silence, but it felt more comfortable this time. He felt like Harry was looking right at him, through him even, without having vision at all. People that he’d met _with_ vision hadn’t made him feel like that. 

He blinked back a sudden wave of tears, ones that came out of nowhere and for a reason unknown. It was just these bursts of emotion that kept rising, popping in his chest like bubbles and overwhelming him. 

He chuckled wetly. “You know Harry, you’ve got more soul then anyone I know, and everyone I know has vision.”

“That’s a compliment, right?”

“Yes. Yes it is.”

“Well then, thank you. You’re not too bad yourself…” Harry frowned. “You know I don’t know your last name yet.”

“Tomlinson.”

The corner of Harry’s mouth lifted, showing some teeth. “Louis Tomlinson. I like how that sounds. Very British.”

“Thank you?”

“It _was_ a compliment.” 

“Then _thank_ you.” 

They giggled together. 

“Alright, anyway, I’ll get going now, you probably want me out of here.”

“No, it was lovely to see you.”

“Thank you,” Harry said coyly, and laughed as he turned to go out the door, the sound of his cane smacking down the hall echoing. “See you, Louis.”

“Goodbye.” As soon as the door shut, Louis wished he was still with him. At the same time, the whole experience made him feel ten times calmer. It was like Harry was some sort of vacuum of stress, he came in and just sucked it right out of him. 

Louis’s cheeks heated at the thought. Not that—not that any sucking was actually done. No…no, Harry was probably straight. Maybe.

Did he think Louis was gay? He had to have. No men just went around calling each other beautiful. 

But he hadn’t exactly shied away from it had he? Or subtly mentioned through body language or something that he was uncomfortable with Louis mentioning it. Louis had dealt with plenty of straight guys. He had a way of knowing. 

So maybe he had a chance. Who knew, really? Life was life, anything could happen. It was just a matter of time. 

Louis poured himself a tall glass of wine, sighing happily at the success of the night. He had a feeling it was going to be one he wouldn’t forget, and that many more were coming. That thought put him to sleep by the end of the night.

.

It happened again. 

Harry came over. The first time, he supposed, was a little bit awkward. They were still new around each other, still feeling things out, testing the waters and getting used to them. Louis knew barely anything about Harry besides the accident and his last name. And well, his first too. Obviously. 

“So where are you from? I mean, originally.”

They were sat on Louis’s couch both on their second glass of red wine, hours into the night. Louis was well on his way to tipsy, but Harry wasn’t stopping, so why should he?  
Harry came around seven with a bright smile and a gift of flowers. (A straight guy doesn’t give you flowers…does he?) His excuse was that he was passing by a flower stand on his way back from class, and he smelled one that reminded him of Louis. Louis had been hanging out with this man for less than a week, and he was already receiving flowers from him. He didn’t care if they weren’t boyfriends, because he was still being treated _better_ than the boyfriends he’d had. 

“Um, I’m from Holmes Chapel actually. Grew up there.”

Louis gasped. “No way! I’m from Doncaster! Small world.”

Harry laughed. “Yeah, I noticed you were British! That’s so strange, two British people in the same apartment, _area_ , even.”

Louis laughed along too, feeling his muscles loosen comfortably. Everything with Harry was so comfortable. _God,_ it was so nice. 

“So how long have you been in New York?”

Harry tipped his head back and swallowed the last few sips of the wine, licking his stained, blood red lips. Louis’s eyes caught on them for a moment, then he forced himself to flicker away. God. He needed a lay. He was getting desperate, and it was getting dangerous. 

“Um, I moved right after the accident, actually. I was planning on going, yes, and things certainly got harder after, but…I didn’t want to give up on my dream.”

Louis’s grin got bigger and bigger. “That’s amazing.”

Harry scratched the back of his neck, looking sheepish. “It’s not…as great as I make it seem. It’s just something I’ve done.”

“Well, that _thing_ you’ve done is great. It’s amazing, following your dream. Everyone should.”

“Yeah,” Harry says. 

They got to know each other swiftly and amply, getting more and more comfortable in each other’s presence as days went on. Louis usually saw Harry in the mornings on his way to class, sifting through his mail. Sometimes Louis thought he was there just to talk to Louis in the morning, because sometimes there was no mail, but he was sure it was all in his head. Another thing was that Louis had started to grow accustomed to touching Harry, that it wasn’t even awkward anymore. It was leading him to the living room or through his doorway, leading him to the bathroom, putting food in his hands, and if they were playful, sometimes in his mouth. 

Usually, in most relationships Louis had been in, getting to the level where they were comfortable enough to touch whenever they wanted took time, a lot of it. Louis was too inelegant and too careful, and it always ended up being a mess. 

But with Harry, things were already there. And they weren’t even in a relationship yet. 

No, not yet. Harry was…he didn’t know what Harry was, but he couldn’t be interested in him. They were friends. 

Louis cast away thoughts of Harry again. 

Everything about Harry felt so delicate and precious, but then his personality jumped out and it was lively and funny and energetic and it just…Harry was something else. 

Then, once they were both done with all tasks for the day, Harry usually visited him. It would always have to be late, but that was all the time they had together, and they both cherished it. 

At that point, Louis was leaning more towards the possibility that Harry could be _not_ straight, but he still refused to imagine himself with him. It was too early, it was too complicated, and Louis was…Louis didn’t know if he even wanted a relationship. His life was busy and crazy enough, and he didn’t want to live it with more expectations. 

Besides. From all the things that they talked about, relationship things never came up. Louis didn’t know why, really; it just never came up naturally. 

One night, when Louis came home, he knew he needed to tell someone about the Harry situation. He had a sort of friend in one of his classes—Niall Horan. They weren’t that close, but Louis just. Louis just had to tell someone. 

When he came home from work, he immediately stripped and jumped into the shower, soaping away the sharp tang of coffee that always lingered with him after his shift. He hated it. It was just a reminder of the crappy espressos and crappy customers and his crappy life. 

When he got out, he walked around naked choosing clothes mostly from the floor.

He picked out a light, white tee-shirt and black Under Armour shorts. Once he brushed out his hair and let it dry a little, he laid back on his bed, comforter on, and opened his phone to call Niall.

He specifically picked a day that he knew Harry wasn’t coming—Harry had texted him saying that he was too swamped in homework. 

As the phone rang, a small burst of nerves came out of nowhere to blossom in his stomach. He didn’t know why. 

Niall picked up sooner than he thought. “Hey mate.”

“Oh. Hello.”

“What’s up?” Niall had a scratchy Irish accent that always stood out strongly from other peoples, which oddly made Louis feel better sometimes; his own accent was layers on layers of _things_ and it felt too strong. 

Louis sat up. “Well, not much. I mean, yes, I—I don’t know, I just wanted to talk to you about something.”

Niall sounded surprised. “Shoot.”

“Okay, so, there’s this blind guy who lives a floor below me. And it’s just a bit maddening, frankly, because we’ve been friends for a while now, right? And—”

“How’d you meet?”

“Um, well it was when—he was just moving in, and he was moving boxes inside and sort of struggling, because, well, you know. And so I saw him from my balcony, offered to help, and did. And—”

“So how’d you guys become close and shit?”

“Well, I’m getting there,” Louis huffed. “We bumped into each other again in the lobby in our apartment place, and he was—I mean, I don’t exactly know how it happened, but the two of us just started. Hanging out.”

“Define ‘hanging out.’”

“He comes over every night or so after we’ve both done school and work and shit and we just talk and get to know each other.”

“Huh. So is he gay?”

“God, Niall, I don’t know?”

“Hmm. You should find out. Sounds like you guys would be cute together.”

“No, don’t say that.”

“Why? Is that not why you’re telling me this story?”

“Well…” Louis contemplated this, perhaps for too long. 

“Told ya. Now, do you want help finding out if he’s gay or not? I could come over, bring up some comfortable but just on the brink of uncomfortable questions. Ease him up a bit on the topic.”

“Niall, _no,_ you’re crazy,” Louis sighed. 

“You sure?”

“ _Yes._ ”

“Think about it.”

“Ugh, no I won’t. Look, I’m—I’m not even sure that I _want_ to date him. It’s not that simple. I’m not even looking for a relationship.” 

This brought a whole five seconds of silence out of Niall.

“Wow. Well what if he _is_ gay? And interested? Would you do it?” 

“I—I don’t know, Jesus.”

“Think about it.”

“Oh, stop telling me to think about it. There’ll be lots of thinking done, now.”

“Aw, your poor brain.”

Louis couldn’t help letting out a small laugh, rolling his eyes. “Yes, it will be very damaged from all the thinking. Now. Anyways. Um. What was I gonna say…”

“I think you’ve said it all man. Or at least I did for you.”

Louis scratched his head. “No, it’s…ugh, whatever. I’m just—I just wanted to rant, I guess. Er, tell someone about it.”

Niall’s voice became sly. “Sure. Okay.”

“Shut up.”

“What?”

“Just shut up.”

“...Bye?”

Louis scoffed, but laughed. “Bye, fucknut. Thanks.”

“See ya.”

Well, okay. Maybe he and Niall were closer then he thought. That was nice. A friend.

 _What about Harry you dumb idiot?_ _  
_

Well, he couldn’t exactly talk to Harry about _Harry._

What even was the purpose of that conversation? Why did he want to tell Niall about Harry?

Hmm. He didn’t want to go down that road, he found out. It was just a friendly conversation. Between friends. A friendly friend convo. Totally normal. 

He would _not_ date Harry, his friend. Harry was just his friend. 

It was whatever. 

He needed sleep so bad. He trudged to shut off his light, rubbing his eyes. He didn’t bother brushing his teeth or anything like that. It was too late. 

.

The next couple of days followed the same routine; the two of them going through their days, Louis thinking about Harry and Harry only for the most of it, and then meeting up at night. It was nice, really, to have found such a kind, close friend that he could see almost every day. A little strange for him, but nice. 

Louis wasn’t really a spontaneous person. He liked sticking to the simple and easy things in life, because why not. And meeting up with a ‘friend’ from his apartment building everyday after work felt…unlike him. It wasn’t really in his comfort zone. So he found it surprising how much he was enjoying it. 

And Harry? Harry himself was inspiring. Despite his situation, the way he kept his spirits so high, higher than Louis’s even, made Louis grin madly every time he came and left. It was like ever since he’d had Harry’s presence around him on a daily basis, his moods were uplifted. His bravery turned. His sorrowful, gray life seemed to glow and maybe show bits of color. 

Harry, beautiful, kind, sweet, blind Harry, was capable of doing all that. And he didn’t even know it. 

Louis decided, a bit drunkenly, on the night of November 28th that he would finally bring up the topic of relationships to his dear old Harry. It was time. He didn’t care anymore. 

Maybe it was because he’d almost gotten fired for breaking a cup that afternoon. Maybe it was because he’d been so tired from working late the night before, he’d fallen asleep in class and gotten yelled at. Maybe it was because he was so sick of holding back. 

Or maybe it was because he was on his eighth glass of red wine, already in need of buying another bottle. 

When sweet, little Harry came knocking on his door on the night of November 28th, it was almost like Louis had to watch himself and his actions from afar in horror. He had on his only a pair of loose shorts and flowy, violet robe that was see through and reached the backs of his knees. He wasn’t on any train of thought to be caring about his appearance. And besides. Harry couldn’t see.

Louis swung the door open with enthusiasm, meeting instantly with Harry’s bright face; eyes behind sunglasses, legs in a fine pair of skinny jeans and torso draped in a striped, button down that was of course, hardly buttoned. His chest looked well-kept and clean. In fact, his hair was still a little damp from a shower. Louis licked his lips. 

“Come in, come _in!_ ” Louis explained, causing a small look of surprise to bloom on Harry’s face. However, the smile stayed. It usually always did. “I have _wiiiiine!_ ”

A laugh bubbled out of Harry as he stepped inside, barely even needing his stick anymore because of his familiarity with his surroundings. He did what he always did to lead his way to the couch—feel for the side table where Louis kept his keys, then for the bookcase on the right, and then the coffee table. From there, he found the sofa, plopping down carefully. 

“I can tell,” he said. 

“Oh can you now, Harold?” Louis said. 

“Oh yes.” He was clearly trying to hold in another laugh. Louis strode into the kitchen, frowning when he saw that there was about two sips left in the wine bottle. He searched his cupboards and stashes for more, but everything was empty. 

_Damn_ it.

When he stumbled back into the living room, Harry was in the exact same position, his hands folded in his lap like a proper gentleman or something. Louis felt a little haze of arousal at how pretty he looked just being there, and he let himself stare before he presented himself in the room. 

“We’re out of wine,” Louis whined suddenly, and Harry gave a little jump. Then he turned his head up in Louis’s general direction with a small smile. 

“Really? That’s a shame. Though I doubt you need anymore.”

“Hey!” Louis said as he swung into Harry’s lap without thinking. This was it. It all depended on how he reacted here. 

His face was blank. 

“I—I am not that drunk,” Louis said, almost whispered really, since they were practically nose to nose now. The only thing that had changed was Harry’s breathing becoming a little rougher. Louis’s hips were fit square in his lap, his arms around his neck. With a sigh, he let his head fall against the little junction between Harry’s neck and shoulder. Harry tensed. 

“Watchya doing there, Tomlinson?”

Louis was not pleased with this reaction. 

“Harry, we need to have a discussion,” Louis said, trying to sound serious. “Right away, I’m afraid.”

“Alright,” Harry said softly. “Well, what is it?” His hands had come up to rest lightly on Louis’s hips. 

“Are you…um…” He supposed flat out asking _are you gay?_ was a little much for a first time relationship talk. So he tried to start at a different approach. “Have you ever, um…well, were you—what was—um…” Louis scrunched up his eyebrows, attempting to form normal sentences in his head. Thoughts were clumping together. 

“…Yes?”

“Hm. You know, don’t you just hate girls? With their…ways? And how they always…leave you and stuff?” He cleared his throat. “Don’t you just hate relationships?” This was really a test to see if Harry indeed hated girls in the way he hoped he did.

Harry seemed to tense even more, which made Louis feel a little guilty. “Um. I guess?”

No no no. Things were starting to get uncomfortable. That wasn’t right. He and Louis rarely had uncomfortable moments anymore. 

“Okay, well. So then, tell me; what was the last relationship you were in? Er—when?” Louis paused. “Unless you're in one right now.” The thought filled him up with dread.

“No, no I’m not,” Harry said. Then he seemed to hesitate, which made Louis frown. “Well, I was in one right before the accident. Uh, in fact, he was driving in the car with me when it happened.”

Louis’s whole chest filled simultaneously with delight and pity. He waited for Harry to continue, holding his breath. 

When Harry spoke, it sounded like he was speaking to a little kid. 

“And we were close, yeah. Been together for around six months.” 

Louis whistled lowly. 

“But then, uh, when I lost my vision, he sort of. Just left. It was very abrupt. He made up a string of excuses and all that, but I think I was just too much for him, in the end. I don’t blame him, really.”

Louis did not like this.

“That jackass. He should’ve been grateful to have you, blind or not. You’re freaking amazing. Anyone should know that, especially a person that’s dated you for six months. That dude was just…dumb.”

Harry laughed. “Yes, yes he was quite stupid.”

Louis cleared his throat again. “So you are then? Gay?” He cringed, even in his fearless, alcohol state. 

Harry sounded surprised, but almost pleased. “Yeah. What about it?”

“Oh nothing. It’s—I mean, I am too. No biggie.”

Harry said nothing for a second, then laughed again, but it sounded nervous. “Yeah. No biggie.”

They were quiet for a long time. 

“So…when was your first kiss?”

“Oh man, this is embarrassing. It actually didn’t happen until senior year of high school.”

Louis was taken aback. “What? What do you mean?”

“Yeah. I’m serious. And we were drunk and it was a guy from my history class who I barely knew. I mean, I thought he was cute for a while, but I didn’t suspect anything would happen from it. Till Samantha’s End of the Year Party came around, and I found out he thought I was cute too. And bi. Kind of a big shock, and suddenly we were making out in Samantha's parent’s bedroom. Until he had to excuse himself to the bathroom to puke. It was sort of a turn off. And then I never saw him again. Jeez, sorry, you didn’t—I don’t know why I went in like, such detail.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Louis laughed, patting his stomach a little. Ooh. Abs. “I just can’t believe it took so long for someone to kiss you, if I’m honest.”

“Really?”

“Well, yeah,” Louis said, flabbergasted. “You’re—have you _seen_ you?” Louis re-thunk. “Oh shit. Well. Sorry.”

“No, it’s fine. I wasn’t always blind, I _have_ seen me.”

“Oh. Right. Fuck.”

Harry laughed, easy and unbothered. “Trust me, you’re fine.”

Louis shook his head. “But anyways. Just shocking to me.”

Harry was quiet. Louis bit his lip, wondering what to say next. Harry got it covered for him, though. 

“Louis, what…what do you look like?”

Oh. 

Louis had never thought about that. Well, he’d thought about his appearance, but never about the fact that Harry had never seen it. 

Will never see it. A strange ball of pity and sadness formed in his gut. 

“Well, I never thought I’d be doing this, but. I’ve got short, brown hair. Um, blue eyes. And then the biceps and muscles and abs of course. Killer jawline, you wouldn’t be able to handle it.”

Harry snorted. “So if I felt you right now, all that stuff would be there?”

Louis gasped. “How dare you not trust me, Styles?”

“Hmm.” They shared small chuckles. “Can I though? Just like…I don’t know, touch you? I’m still getting used to this whole thing, so I don’t really…I mean. It would just. Help.”

Louis swallowed. “Of course. Touch away.”

Harry laughed, then tentatively rose his hands up. Louis led them to his face, trying not to jump when he felt Harry’s cold fingers against his cheek. They were much closer than Louis had thought—the proximity of Louis sitting in his lap nearly bringing their noses together. Or maybe they’d always been that close, and now as the tension grew, Louis was just noticing. 

First, he traced his cheek, going along the cheekbone and circling his thumbs. He made a satisfied noise and then slowly dragged his forefinger to his nose, poking it a bit just to mess with Louis. Then his forehead, eyebrows, even right over the eyelids. 

And then a thumb landed on his lips. 

It was funny that they had gotten so used to touching in the past couple days and now this felt strange.

Louis took a deep breath, knowing that Harry could feel it. Harry’s mouth dropped open a little as he traced a finger over and over his lips, gentle and soft as silk. 

“So?” Louis asked nervously. His throat was dry. He needed to say _something_. 

Harry closed his mouth, shaking his head and drawing his hands away. He pushed his sunglasses up on his nose. “Yeah, um. You _feel_ very nice.”

“Thank you.” Louis smiled. “I’m smiling, also.”

Harry smiled too, popping an abnormally large dimple. “I could tell.”

Louis cleared his throat, hopping off Harry’s lap. It had been a long night, a long day, actually, and it was maybe time for some sleep. He didn’t feel that drunk anymore, like Harry was a healer himself. “Um, anyways, you should—I need some sleep. It’s been a long day.”

Harry’s face turned solemn and he nodded as he rose from the couch, feeling for his cane. “Yes. Yes of course.”

“But this was fun. Interesting, but fun.”

“Yes, yes it was. See you tomorrow?”

“Of course.” Louis led Harry to the door, taking his arm. He waited expectantly for Harry to leave, hear his cane clicking down the hall until he disappeared, but Harry paused. Turned around. And took off his sunglasses. 

And it was always a bit startling to see his real eyes, the damage from the car crash. It wasn’t every day that you saw someone like Harry. But nonetheless, it took his breath away. In a perfectly good way. 

“Y—yes?”

Harry opened his mouth, closed it. 

And then he leaned in and kissed him. 

Suddenly, the gears in Louis’s brain stopped spinning. He was so shocked, he couldn’t even more. Harry was there, right there, squeezing his bicep and pressing his nose to his cheek as he sighed _into_ Louis’s mouth. 

But holy shit. He was kissing Harry Styles. For the first time ever. 

A thousand thoughts landed in his mind at this—like how they were going to tell their kids about this story and how it would be mentioned in their wedding vows—and then he cast that thought away, _fast._

Jesus. He needed to calm down.

His cheeks were hot, probably an electric, flaming red. He was still to stunned to move when Harry pulled away. He realized he’d been dreaming of Harry doing that for weeks, even though he might’ve been in denial about it. 

“Wow,” he said, swaying. Harry grinned, and without thinking, Louis finally reached up and poked a dimple. Harry grinned more. 

“Sorry, just felt like doing that. And I know you’re tired, so we don’t have to talk about it now, it’s just…” Harry put his head up high. “Something that I had to do.” He slipped his sunglasses back on, turned around, and left. Louis stood there with the door open and his mouth gaping until he heard Harry’s cane finally stop banging. He blinked once, twice, and then shut the door, practically collapsing against it as soon as it shut. 

Now _that_ was a day he would never forget. Unless his stupid hangover came and swept it from his mind. 

But he had a feeling it wouldn’t. 


End file.
